Rearview Mirror
This little pool in the air is
not a spring but a sink into which
trees and highway, bank and fields are
sipped away in minuteness. All
split on the present then merge in
stretched perspective, radiant in
reverse, the wide world guttering
back to one lit point, as our way
weeps away to the horizon
in this eye where the past flies ahead.
by Robert Morgan
from The Language They Speak Is Things to Eat
University of North Caroline Press, 1994